27
The Apollo Hall, a grand complex built to celebrate Emperor Franz’s second marriage, had five ballrooms, and was seen as the centre of the new dance fashion—the waltz. Its clientele included the wealthy middle classes, including the ‘tolerated’ Jews that raised finance for the spendthrift emperor. But mostly it was a playground for the aristocracy, not only of Vienna but of Europe. The congress of 1814-15 had been its zenith, but a year later, the Austrian capital was still a magnet, and the Selborns were by no means the only visiting dignitaries.
The venue was a mile from Minoritenplatz, and by tacit agreement Elizabeth had travelled in Darcy’s carriage beside a tense Georgiana, with conversation limited to banalities. At the Apollo they joined Lord Selborn, and were escorted to an arena with pillars demarcating a royal box, ornate benches and tables in the alcoves, complex flower arrangments, and a richly decorated arched ceiling. Elizabeth sat with the Darcys, next to two benches accommodating the Selborns, Lindale, and Koch.
Again there was little conversation, but she was content to observe, perhaps for the last time, the European haut ton on parade. Duchess von Sagan, her adversary at the Zichy salon, strode past with a nod. Opposite, Metternich hovered by the pale delicate Countess Julie Zichy, known as la beauté celeste , ethereal beauty. The city, she now knew, had been invaded twice during the Napoleonic wars, before resurging at the congress, where the continent had been reshaped. But challenges remained: famine would spark rebellion; the territorial gains of Russia and Prussia were resented; civil rights for Jews were disputed. The Viennese elite danced, ate and drank to excess, discussed politics and culture in their coffee houses and salons, as if all had gone back to normal. But according to Lindale, modern values of science and democracy were on the rise: the aristocracy would have to bend with the wind or be blown away.
Perhaps it was for the best. But this fading of an epoch mirrored her personal feeling of sadness as her life with the Selborns came to an end. Yes, she had much to hope for. But her joy was muted, since it could not be expressed. To flaunt her intimacy with Darcy would be tasteless until they had taken leave of the Selborns and reconciled Georgiana. For now they had to hold their delight in check, and observe due remorse for the disappointments inflicted on others.
They remained seated during the first set. Sweet wine was brought, with tiny crescent biscuits dusted in sugar. Justina took the floor with Count Zichy; Lord and Lady Selborn left to speak with a Russian diplomat. In the interval, Georgiana went to join Justina, leaving Elizabeth alone with an embarrassed-looking Darcy.
‘You need not ignore me entirely,’ she said with a smile.
He turned a fraction to face her. ‘I would have made a poor actor.’
‘Do you not realise that in society, most people are acting most of the time?’
‘Not you, I think. It was one reason I was drawn to you.’
‘We could allow ourselves one dance, could we not?’
‘The next set?’
‘I am not engaged.’
‘I had better take the opportunity to thank Lord Selborn for his hospitality these last weeks. He has insisted on paying half our expenses.’
She laughed. ‘In addition to all of mine. Perhaps he will recoup the whole sum from government coffers.’
‘Do you mind if I leave you alone?’
‘Not at all.’
He left, and out of the corner of her eye she watched as he strode across to the Selborns, this man that soon would play such an intimate role in her life. He nodded to a man walking towards him, and Elizabeth averted her gaze as she recognised Edmund Lindale.
‘Miss Bennet.’
She looked up, reddening. ‘Mr Lindale.’
‘We are instructed to behave as if nothing had changed. May I join you a moment?’
‘Of course.’ She glanced right and left to make sure they could not be overheard. ‘I’m sorry …’ She broke off, recalling Lord Selborn’s advice on apologies. ‘I fear I have upset you dreadfully.’
‘It was a reverse, certainly.’ His manner was awkward, as if his usual self-confidence had taken a blow. ‘But one I ought to have expected. I have been slighted before, Miss Bennet. Given the opportunity, it is natural that you would prefer a gentleman of wealth and pedigree. Nevertheless I am disappointed, and doubly so. Disappointed for the happiness we might have enjoyed together. And disappointed, if I may say so, in you. I thought you different from other ladies. I was wrong.’
She felt a spurt of anger, and tried to control it. ‘You think I chose Mr Darcy for his wealth and social position?’
‘That is the rule, is it not, among the gentry?’
‘We are not all the same, Mr Lindale. My admiration of you was sincere. If I have favoured Mr Darcy, it was not from calculation, but emotion.’
He smiled wrily. ‘It may seem that way to you. But is it not curious how the suitors preferred by the ladies are so often blessed with a title or a fortune? A coincidence, do you think? Or does the heart too secretly calculate?’
Elizabeth flinched, sensing resentment, then recalled a similar observation by her father and burst out laughing. ‘I am outmatched.’
‘You concede my point?’
‘That would be too humiliating. Yet I cannot refute your theory, any more than you can prove it.’
‘You are acute.’ He sighed. ‘Frankly, I have never met a woman like you. But consider how you have used me. First, welcoming my addresses. Then giving yourself to another man before even condescending to reply to my proposal. As if I were of no account whatever.’
‘It was ill done, and I am ashamed. But I beg you, reserve your bitterness for myself alone. Not every gentlewoman would have acted thus. Nor under normal circumstances would I.’
He regarded her for a few more seconds, then walked away.
After her dance with Darcy, Elizabeth found herself again alone during the interval. She had resigned herself to the role of observer when Count Rietberg approached, and with a grin sat beside her.
‘My dear Fraulein Bennet, what have you done?’
She frowned, wondering whether a rumour had reached him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You are a pariah. Your friends ignore you. Have you been caught stealing Lady Selborn’s jewellery?’
‘For your information, I have just danced the waltz with Mr Darcy.’
‘Your partner in crime?’
She snorted. ‘What do you want?’
‘I hear to my sorrow that Lord Selborn’s party is leaving. It is our last chance to perform the L?ndler.’
She hesitated, and he said with mock severity, ‘Pardon me, Fraulein, but you seem distracted. I have asked for the next set. Convention demands that you grant me a reply.’
She laughed. ‘If you seek to press me into an overhasty decision, let me warn you …’
‘Have you forgotten the steps? If so, we must practise, rather than wasting time in chatter.’
‘I remember perfectly.’
‘We will rehearse anyway, to make sure.’
She waved this away. Looking up, she saw Justina glaring at them.
Count Rietberg said gently, ‘It seems I was right. What have you done, sweet Fraulein?’
Elizabeth made no reply.
In the interval after the L?ndler Elizabeth paid a visit to the cloakroom where she joined a row of five elegant Viennese ladies perched on a latrine. They were bantering cheerfully, evidently well-acquainted, and took an immediate interest in the newcomer. On discovering Elizabeth was English, they amused themselves by questions like Know you the Duke of Wellington? Their friendliness was far removed from their hauteur in the ballroom, and she wondered whether this was because no gentlemen were present. They were full of praise for die Engl?nder for defeating Bonaparte, a reminder of how threatened they had felt just a year before.
Heartened by this encounter, Elizabeth emerged into the corridor leading back to the ballroom, only to find herself face-to-face with Justina. They froze, then Justina tried to push past, but on impulse Elizabeth took her arm.
‘A word. Please.’
‘Not here.’ Justina shook herself free, and walked beyond the crush around the cloakroom. ‘Well?’
‘I was told you had vowed never to speak to me again.’
‘You are dismissed. Your role as companion is ended. However, as a matter of common courtesy I will listen if you have something to say.’
Elizabeth observed her former friend’s expression, at once proud and vulnerable, and felt a wave of tenderness. ‘Just that I am so sorry. For hurting you.’
A sniff. ‘Hurting me? Do you imagine I was in love with Mr Darcy?’
‘I thought …’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘It was what everyone assumed.’
‘I enjoy the company of gentlemen. I like to charm and be charmed. But marry him? It would be beneath me.’
‘Then whence your shock at discovering us together?’
‘Because of your duplicity. The loyal companion who claims a casual acquaintance with a gentleman and pretends to dislike him, then frolics with him in secret even though she believes him almost engaged to me! You are shameless, Lizzy, and I regret ever trusting you.’
‘Call me all the names you like: I deserve most of them. I only hope you are telling the truth, in regard to your feelings for Mr Darcy.’
‘I’m usually honest, unlike others I could mention.’ She studied Elizabeth with a frown. ‘You were very jolly with Count Rietberg. Is Mr Darcy not good enough for you?’
‘It was just a dance.’
‘You’ll be targetting the emperor next. He’s mourning Empress Maria Ludovika, but that needn’t stop you.’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘I have one more thing to ask of you, Justina. Like it or not, I will marry Mr Darcy, and it is important to me that Miss Darcy should be reconciled to this outcome, and perhaps one day even welcome it. She admires you …’ She broke off, unable to find the words.
‘You think I have been poisoning her mind against the match?’ Justina grimaced. ‘How little you know me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It would be best if you did not repeat what I said earlier. About my feelings for her brother. Or absence thereof.’
‘You have my word.’
‘For what it is worth.’
Elizabeth smiled, and for a moment saw the beginnings of an answering smile. But it did not come. With a toss of the head Justina flounced away.